Sera only just managed to keep from licking her plate. Was this what home-cooked food could taste like? Her mother had never cooked. They'd always had housekeepers who did the bland thing. All very nutritious, of course. She wondered if that was why her father would take her out for barbecue once a week.

She eyed the last bit of sauce on her plate and contemplated licking it. Dylan smiled smugly at her. "You want more?"

Yes. "No." But if she did that, it meant more time on the treadmill and she already hated that thing. She forced herself to stand. Siting here would make her fall asleep. "Let me help."

Brows rising in mocked shock, he grinned. "What is this? Sera Justice doing a dish?"

She stuck out her tongue. “Don't get used to it. I should have moved someplace with a dishwasher, but I loved the water view so much I took it right away, not thinking what a pain in the ass it would be."

He nodded noncommittally, retreating back into silence. It was so odd with him. Sometimes, he let his guard down and he was easy to get along with. Fun almost, but then he'd go all stiff and roboty again. Since she needed him to stick around for a bit, she might as well get to know more about him than just how he tasted. Or how good he sounded when he whispered her name. "Before you said your stepmother showed you how to cook. How did your parents meet?"

His big shoulders visibly relaxed and as soft smile tugged at his lips, the love apparent on his face. "Dad and Sarah's late husband had their own law practice. And the families have been tight since before I was born." He washed a plate and handed it to her so she could dry. As they settled into a rhythm, he kept talking.

"The year my mother left, Sarah sort of unofficially took us in. She made sure Derek and I got to school on time, had somewhere to go after school—she's a doctor and has a clinic, so we'd go hang out after school and do homework until Dad could pick us up."

"You're lucky you had someone like that around. Mostly I got messages from Mom's chiefs of staff about what was acceptable and not acceptable. My brother, Malcolm, he was the apple of her eye. It always confused me because he defied her at every turn."

"Trust me, Derek and I knew how lucky we were. After Mom left, within six months Sarah's husband passed. It was bad all around. Derek, Delilah, her daughter, and I banded together. She and my father leaned on each other a lot. I guess things sort of went from there. We only had each other."

"And you guys were okay with insta-family?"

His dark brow furrowed. "I guess so. We already loved her. It was weird to hear that they loved each other maybe. But then it felt like the most natural thing in the world. She'd always been there, ya know, from my first crush to my first broken arm."

“You've had more than one?" She laughed.

"Yeah. I was sort of a climber when I was a kid."

"I cannot see that at all." A little boy who climbed trees had to have been fun at some point.

"Maybe you need to get to know me better."

In the matter of an instant, tension wound around them thick and unyielding. Like a coward, instead of addressing it, she asked, "So they got married and you all lived happily ever after like the Brady Bunch?"

There was that laugh again, rich, mellow, like the softest caress of a lover’s firm hand. "Sort of. My parents started taking in kids, fostering and adopting. Nate, then Mia and Jackson, Jezzie, Eden, Holden, and—"

Sera sputtered. "Excuse me? Just how many of you are there?"

"Twelve."

She almost dropped the dish towel. "Excuse me? Dare I even ask what Christmas holidays are like in your house? That must be completely insane."

"You get used to it. Jezzie, one of my sisters, actually texted and said she might be coming down for a quick visit."

"That would be awesome because I have questions for her about little Robo-Dylan." She shook her head. "I mean, how does that even work? Did they put you up in military barracks or something like that?"

"No. I shared with Derek. There was an apartment above the garage and additional rooms added."

"I can't even believe that." It had always only been her and her brother and she'd always longed for more siblings. But instead of gaining more, she'd lost the only one she had. "Must have been really fun."

"It was a total blast. It's still total chaos when we get together now.” As she dried the last plate, she glanced up at him.

"You don't really seem like a chaos kind of guy."

"I'm not." He ran the water with soap into the roasting pan. "Tell me about Malcolm."

Sera waited for the squeeze of pain with the mention of his name, but none came. "Best big brother, hands down. No matter what you needed, he'd find a way to give it to you. He also knew how to defy my mother and do it in style. He had that easy charm about him. He used to get me in a lot of trouble, but it was usually well worth it."

"As is the way with big brothers." The muscle in his jaw ticked and she knew he was holding something back. But she let it go. "Thank you for dinner. It was… Wow. I'm totally useless in a kitchen. Besides coffee. Coffee I can do."

"Figures." He leaned back against the wall just as the timer on her watch went off.

"Need to break up this little party. I need to go manually shut off the water,"

Dylan shook his head. "No. You don't. I already took care of it."

Sera frowned as she slid a glance over the sink and out the window to her lawn. The sprinkler hadn't come on. "What did you do?"

"I called the property manager this morning. Told him to have someone fix it right away. And he'll be paying your HOA bill for the last several months."

Her mouth hung open. "Uh—I—You didn't have to do that."

He shrugged. "Consider it a peace offering."

"Wasn't necessary, but thank you. If I'm not going to be fiddling with the damn thing, maybe I'll get some work done."

"Yeah, good idea." He preceded her into the living room, but then said, "Or maybe you can show me where the hell all the damn sports stations are on your TV. I was in L.A. last year for a case, but all the channels are different."

Sera sat on the arm of the couch. She could feel his heat pulling her in, promising warmth and comfort. Have you lost your mind? She sat up straighter, then handed him the remote. “This is ESPN. If you want TNT, press memory 2 and it'll get you there."

"You've programmed the sports channels into your remote? Will you marry me?" As a frown drew over his brows. "Or did you do them for what's his name from this morning?"

Sera wrinkled her nose—Aaron, as if. "That would be a no. What, I can't like basketball? I'm into sports, FYI. And not just the obvious sports. Soccer and racing too."

"Is that so?" He folded his arms across his chest. "Oh really? I guess I don't see it. Who's your favorite driver?"

As if this was a hard question. "Hamilton. Of course." She shrugged. “It doesn't hurt that he's so pretty. But he's a killer driver."

"You didn't choose any of the female drivers like Sarah Fisher or Kisima Jennings."

"Well I like winners. Jennings is good actually, she's been coming up. I like her style, so ask me again after the next season."

"Well, if Derek doesn't fuck up too badly I have a feeling she'll be my sister-in-law soon."

"Shut up!" She shoved his arm. He didn't budge. Wow. So much solid muscle

It wasn't so much that she meant to give his bicep a squeeze. More that it was a subconscious response. His gaze darted to her hand, and she pulled back immediately. "Uh, I'm going to go work." She indicated her room. "You know, lots to do."

She started to back out, suddenly regretting her terrycloth shorts and tank. Feeling suddenly exposed. Those icy-blue eyes narrowed on her and she swallowed hard. Damn, that was some serious focus.

"Why don't you hang out. I don't bite."

"H-hang out?"

"Yeah, you know, watch the game. Like you said, we're stuck together for the next few weeks. Might as well be friends."

"Or something."

He shrugged. His gaze flickered to her lips and as if on command she licked them. Well shit. That probably wasn't going to help. "Or something."

"Uh, sure. Just for the quarter, because I need to figure out a way to kick Jason Stark’s ass before I sleep tonight."

"Who is Jason Stark again?"

"You met him on Saturday."

He nodded. "Right. Right, the asshole who was staring at your ass."

Sera laughed. "Oh my God, he was not."

"Yes, he was. If you wanted me to kick his ass, I'd have happily done it then. And could have used that as an excuse."

"Well, the jury's still out on him. Last weekend we worked together on some ideas for this event and on Monday, he seemingly stole my idea."

Dylan's voice went low. "That's a shitty thing to do."

She shouldn't think that was hot. But somehow it made her want to purr. Who the hell was she? It was official, she needed a lobotomy. Or whatever it was that would bring her back to her damn senses. Maybe a brain transplant. "Yeah, he claims he didn't know it was going to go down that way. But I get how my mom says to trust your enemy not at all and your supposed friends only so far."

"Sounds like your mother."

"I forget you got to spend a lot of time with her."

"Not like we were sipping wine and talking about our diaries or whatever. All I know is she's a tough woman. Doesn't fuck around."

There was no way she was talking about her mother right now. Not after the day she'd just had. "Yeah, that's my mom for you. No room for error." She slid into the couch and before long they were both complaining about referee calls. Neither of the teams she cared about. Toronto was playing the Clippers, but since he was rooting for the Clippers, she automatically rooted for the Raptors. As strategies went, it wasn't a wise one because the Raptors…well, they sucked. So she had to endure a lot of gloating from him.

During one of the breaks he'd started in on her again about her losing team and she was about ready to brain him when a commercial she recognized came on. "Shhh, this is one of my campaigns." It was for Lexion. This time not really a beauty campaign, but for a couples’ sexual aid. It was tasteful, but also funny. Young couples going to bed after a night of big talk and flirting, but then passing out instead of doing the do. Then the flip coin. Add in the help of the special lubricant and they were ready for action. Suddenly, young couples were ripping each other's clothes off, knocking things off of counters…and how could she have forgotten…making out against doors.

Add in suggestive moaning and strategic flashes of skin in dim light. Oh hell. Sera's mouth went dry and her focus flittered to the front door. Don't think about it. Forget it happened. Next to her, she could feel the tension rolling off Dylan in waves. His heat warmed her from just inches away. One look, one touch, one breath, one kiss, and she'd have blissful relief. Except she was not going to do that…again. She could resist.

Next to her, Dylan's shoulder muscles bunched and released. He sat back into the couch, turning to face her. "You realized you just helped men all over America get laid. They must sell off the shelves. I'd say the promotion is pretty successful."

Sera pressed her thighs together, trying to ward off the throbbing, pulsing need. "Uh, yeah."

The ease of the last couple of hours had suddenly dissipated into this tension she couldn't escape. It was like all the frustration and need she'd been storing up was simmering just under the surface threatening to burst forth. Like yesterday.

If she could just—No. This time she would think before she acted. She hopped up and started backing out of the room. "Okay, so I'm going to go to bed do some work before I crash."

Dylan wiped his hands on his jeans as he nodded. "Good idea. Great. Good. See you in the morning."

She tossed him the remote then ran out of the room like it was on fire. She didn't dare stop until she was in the safety of her bedroom with the door shut behind her.

Jesus. That man. Of all the men in the world, why did her sudden libido have to focus on that one? There were millions of available men in San Diego. More appropriate men. Hell, Taj called it ManDiego, for the love of God. But no, like a masochistic idiot, she wanted Mr. All Wrong—Agent Dylan Donovan.

There had to be something she could do before she ended up exactly where she'd been last night—up against the door, satisfied and wanting more, so much more. She knew just what would do the trick. But could she really bust out the big guns with Dylan feet away in the living room?

Yes. Hell yes. It was in everyone's best interest. So they didn't make another mistake. All she had to do was turn on the music to mask the buzzing. With a determined breath, she pulled out old faithful.

* * *

Dylan meant to keep his eyes on the game. That was what he was supposed to be doing. Watching the game. Having a beer. Keeping dirty thoughts about Sera Justice out of his head. But the moment she was gone, instead of the tension dissipating, he itched to touch her. He wanted to convince her to come back, so he could what? Kiss her? Touch her? Fu—Okay, he had to stop. He was barely holding on to his shit as it was.

All he needed was a cold shower and to do some work. Then he'd feel more like himself. He owed the senator an update. He wasn't sure what the hell he was going to tell her. Maybe “Hey, ma'am, I thought I was losing my shit when I saw Cochran the other day, but now your daughter thinks she saw him too. Except I have no proof.” He'd finished the report for the gun runner case that morning, and Sawyer was working on his mother, so Sera's case had his full attention now. Now if only his focus was on work instead of the woman he was supposed to protect.

With only a minute left till the end of the game, he turned off the TV. It had been a blowout against the Raptors. Still feeling tense, he opted for a shower. He'd start fresh in the morning. The sooner he could identify the threat, the sooner he might be able to get home.

After a lightning-quick shower and feeling more like himself, he headed to the living room to grab his laptop, but he never made it that far. A low moan coming from her bedroom stopped him in his tracks.

Just like that, the tension rolled back onto his shoulders. He wrestled with whether to check on her or not. Maybe she was in there doing yoga. Or stretching. Or—the low buzzing told him it was neither of those things. She moaned again and Dylan bit back a curse.

Blood rushed in his head and he braced his arms in the doorjamb in an attempt to steady himself. So much for that fucking cold shower. What he should do was go to his room. Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars. But he couldn't tear himself away. Couldn't back away from the door. Especially not when he heard her hushed whisper, "Dylan."

Shit. She was thinking about him. Maybe about what happened last night and the way she'd wrapped her legs around him—how she’d been so ready—how easily he could have had her against he door. His legs shook and he was too close to knocking on her door.

Get a grip and move away. His cock blatantly refused the order. Point blank drained all the blood from his feet so he couldn't run away and his brain so he couldn't think. She was thinking of him as she touched herself.

With a frustrated growl, he headed back to the shower. As he turned the water to icy, he tried to think if he'd ever wanted anyone so bad. She's not yours. He was leaving. Not to mention he was supposed to be protecting her. Problem was he wanted to do a hell of a lot more than protect her: he wanted to possess her.